


neat to know

by stephanie_rose



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Gen, How Do I Tag, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump, my first fic both on ao3 and in english, we'll see where this goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-03-02 06:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanie_rose/pseuds/stephanie_rose
Summary: On patrol Peter meets his childhood abuser Skip Westcott again, who is about to do the same he did to Peter to somebody else. Unfortunately Peter gets severely hurt while fighting Westcott and his companions, but tries to cope with his injury on his own.The next morning, Tony nearly has a heart attack when he enters his son's room, who supposedly overslept.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> First of all i wanted to say that english isn’t my first language, so there might be some mistakes, but I’m trying my best. On top of that I’m still working on figuring out how ao3 works so uuuuh i'm just gonna wing it.
> 
> In the beginning there’ll be a mention of both attempted rape and past sexual abuse of a minor (but there's basically nothing graphic), later on there’ll be mentions of blood and uuuh it’s angsty, I don’t know what else to say. 
> 
> I’ll continue this fic, but work and uni are kicking my ass rn and I'm still trying to get used to writing regularly again, so I don’t know when the next chapter will be up but I'll try my best. 
> 
> If you wanna cry with me about endgame or stuff like that, you can also visit me on tumblr, my name is iloveyoudreitausend. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Love,  
> Steffi
> 
> Thanks to my girl Leo for the title - without you I would have needed a few more days just to come up with something.

#  Chapter 1 

He should’ve known that going on patrol after not being able to sleep properly for days – finals suck ass - wasn’t a good idea. He really should have.  


But Peter couldn’t let his city down just because he feels a little tired. Criminals don’t rest either, so it’s not like he has a choice, right? 

But today, of all times, was one of the most stressful days since he started going out as Spider-Man. From saving a little girl’s cat from drowning to an attempted bank robbery – this day covered fucking everything and didn’t give him a single second to catch his breath. 

At the latest he should’ve head home after nearly dropping face-first on the ground. He had zoned out for several seconds, causing his webs to miss the next building.  


He actually _was_ on his way home – he wasn’t dumb enough to keep patrolling as tired as he was – when he heard a scream. The quarter he was currently in was completely deserted, nobody else there to help the person in distress. He followed the noise to a dimly lit alley next to an abandoned warehouse. The person who screamed – a woman, barely twenty, with sheer terror written all over her face – was circled by multiple men, two of them clutching her arms. 

Peter knew what was about to happen. 

“Hey, leave her alone!” Peter shouted. That got the men’s attention. They collectively turned around to face him, the tallest one bringing up a small gun, another guy tightening his grip around a dagger. The third one was the last one to face him. He had dirty blonde hair under his cap, dark eyes and exactly the same face that had haunted Peter for years. The man Peter still had nightmares about. 

 

_he felt the hands on his skin again, touching him in places they shouldn’t_  
_‘What are you doing?’_  
_the breath on his skin making his flesh crawl, the sound of trousers dropping to the floor_  
_‘Nononopleasestopno’_  
_the whispers_  
_the fear creeping in his bones_  
_the hands pressuring him down on the mattres_ s  
_pain where Westcott holds him down_  
_Peter was eight years old_  
_just a terrified kid trying to fight pack against the teenager whose face is just centimetres above his_  
_A terrified kid who didn’t even knew what was going on, who just knew it hurt_  
_panic when Westcott pulls down Peter`s pants_  
_more pain_  
_Peter didn’t even know the word ‘rape’ beforehand_

Spider-Man doesn’t kill people, Peter promised himself as he started patrolling. He did his best to keep his promise while fighting – he doesn’t want to murder people, he really doesn’t, but the panic, the hatred running through his veins right now erased every logical thought, leaving only animalistic instincts. 

Fear, no, adulterated panic, rage, pain. 

He couldn’t stop it. 

_This guy deserves to die._

The next seconds – or maybe minutes, he didn’t know for sure – pass in a blur. His instincts took over - webbing up people, ducking, evading punches. Everything while his mind was totally blank. 

 

A loud bang followed by a sharp pain in his body helped him regain consciousness again. He stood in a back alley. One man clad in black webbed up on the ground, another one webbed to the building next to where Peter was standing, the one hand that wasn’t webbed up holding something, and one man lying directly in front of him, his face beaten to a pulp. 

Peter looked down on himself. His fists were bloody, his side was aching and 

_oh god, he’s dead, I killed someone oh god fucking shit._

Heavily panting, he backed away from the bloody mess that was Skip’s body. 

_oh god oh god oh god_

“He deserved that.” The girl said with a raspy voice, cried-off eye makeup coloring her cheeks where the tears had flown down. 

“I – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve done this, fuck, I lashed out. Shitf-” 

“You saved me. He wanted to rape me. He _really_ deserved this.” the girl closed her eyes and wiped away the tear stains on her cheeks. After a few seconds she pointed towards his right side. “Spidey, you’re bleeding.” 

Oh. _Oh._  


He looked down, a little bit more thoroughly this time. 

Blood was dripping from his side, a small puddle already forming on the floor. 

He’d been shot.  
Well, that explains the loud bang and the pain in his side. 

“Should I… um, should I call an ambulance?” the girl gave him a worried look. Damn, she looked even younger from up close. She couldn’t be much older than he was, eighteen at most. 

“No… no, I’ll be fine. I just gotta, um, are you okay, can I leave you alone? I just gotta go… um, sorry you had to see this.” 

While the adrenaline slowly wore off, Peter started to realize the amount of damage the fight had done to his body. He’d probably broken a few bones, had several small wounds from Skip trying to defend himself and obviously the bleeding gunshot in his side. 

He’d love to stay to see this asshole being arrested - _if he was still alive, a small voice in his head said_ \- but he already lost a significant amount of blood. And it _hurt like shit_.  


She swallowed. “I’m fine, thanks to you. You saved my life today.”

 

His way home seemed to take hours, even if in reality, he knew it was less than twenty minutes. Stark Tower was right in front of him as his vision started to blur on the edges and he _still_ had to climb up twenty floors to get to his room. And god, his head was killing him. Honestly, laying down and resting for a few seconds sounded way too good. But he couldn’t, not right in front of the tower. Somebody would see him and look under his mask or - 

After what felt like the most strenuos kind of exercising he’d ever done, he arrived on the floor where his bedroom was. As he finally entered his room through the open window, he could barely stand up straight. He knew he should get patched up, he knew he should call his dad, but a little nap won’t do any harm, right? He doubted his ability to stay awake long enough to actually call his father anyway. 

So Peter collapsed face-first into the mattress, his eyesight turning black. 

 

\------- 

 

“Pete, time to get up, you’ll be late for school.” 

Before he entered his kid’s room, Tony didn’t notice something was off. Even if Peter was usually awake on time - oversleeping wasn’t something Peter normally did -, his son was still a teenager and teenagers’ sleeping schedules were irregular, right? Not that Tony, who either slept for twenty hours straight or nothing at all for three days in a row, had been the best role model anyway. 

Before entering Peter’s room, he knocked on the door. Tony’s parents hadn’t given a single fuck about his privacy and Tony himself was determined to not repeat this.  
He didn’t get an answer, neither a single word nor a tired moan from his son, so he entered. 

 

“What the _fuck_.” He whispered as his brain progressed the scene in front of him. There was blood on the floor, blood on the bedding and someone clad in a blue-and-red onesie on the bed. 

 

He was wondering why the hell Spider-Man was lying there unconscious in his son’s bed, before he froze on the spot, realization dawning on him. 

_Peter._

It made sense now. From one day to another Peter didn’t wear his glasses anymore, got way better reflexes. Something must've happened. Peter sneaking out in the evening just to return in the middle of the night, his increasing unreliability – Tony planned on confronting him anyway, but never got to it until now. 

It made sense. 

Fuck, why didn’t he realize that Spider-Man was his own son, running around in Queens, occasionally stopping robberies, jumping in front of out-of-control cars and even stopping a fucking bus that would’ve crashed in a demonstrating crowd once. While wearing fucking sweatpants. 

_Peter_. 

Why didn’t he realize that Spider-Man was his fifteen-year old son who was _bleeding out in front of him what the fuck_

He rushed over to Peter, heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to turn him around to be able to examine Peter’s injuries, but Tony knew this could be a really bad idea. He had a shitload of experience in injuries – way too many, for his taste - and he knew he could possibly do more damage than to actually be helpful. He didn’t want to risk a broken rib poking Peter’s lung or- or- 

“Pete, wake up, please, kid, what the fuck! Shit, Fri, scan for vitals! Pete, please don’t be dead.” 

Friday’s voice, calm and robotic as usual, seemed kilometres away. “Junior boss is alive, pulse detected, but admittedly weak. He shows signs of extreme blood loss, transfusion recommended immediately.” 

Fuck. _Fuck_. 

“Fri, call Helen Cho and alert every other medical professional right now. I don’t give a shit what they’re working on right now, tell them to hurry up, Peter’s life is on stake!” Tony practically yelled at the AI. 

“Of course, Boss. In the meantime I’d recommend to apply pressure to the wound to staunch the flow of blood. The wound is on his left side, approximately two centimetres below his ribs. You can turn junior boss around to make the wound more accessible.” 

Tony obeyed the AI’s commands mechanically. He tries to turn Peter around as gentle as possible with his hands shivering. He put his hands over the fucking hole in his kid’s body, trying use the exact right amount of force to stop the bleeding. 

 

Tony didn’t believe in god. But in this moment, he prayed to every possible godlike person that could possibly exist, prayed to save his kid who was currently bleeding out in his arms. 

 

Peter was already pale as a ghost, his breaths rapid and shallow. He was looking like a corpse, lying in a pool of his own blood. So much blood so much so - 

Then, Peter’s eyes fluttered open.  


Tony put his left hand on his son’s pale cheek and gently stroke his face, as he had done probably a thousand times when Peter got hurt as a kid – Tony always joked that Peter and his clumsiness made him grey prematurely.  


This time, his fingers left trails of Peter’s blood on his greyish-pale cheek.

“Pete, don’t you dare to die.” Tony says, his voice breaking at his son’s name. “Helen will be here in a sec. Please, please stay with me. Please.” 

Peter’s lips barely moved, his voice wasn’t more than a hoarse whisper. Nevertheless, Tony understood. _“Dad, I’m sorry.”_  


“No, Petey, don’t close your eyes, stay awake, kid, please.” Tony felt the tears welling up in his eyes, blurring his sight. “Stay awake, Pete.” 

It felt like hours, the brief span where his son’s eyes slowly but surely shut. 

 

It was quiet. Way to quiet for his liking. Nothing but his own breaths and his own racing heartbeat  
His own gasps didn’t seem to bring him air at all. Feeling like he was breathing in water instead of air, drowning him, pulling him under  
Deeper  
Deeper  
Deeper under the surface 

 

“Boss, you show signs of a panic attack. Initiating Calm Down protocol. List five things you can see, -” 

_Peter, pale as a ghost_  
_bedsheets soaked red_  
_a puddle of blood on the floor_  
_blue lips and pale grey skin_  
_dead dead dead_

“Boss, you panicking does not help in this situation. To calm down I’d - “ 

“How the fuck am I supposed calm down if my kid’s dying in front of me, would you enlighten me?” he snarled. 

“The doctors will be here in a few seconds, boss.” 

As Friday spoke, the apartment’s door flew open and Dr. Cho stormed in, wearing half of her casual wear, half of her lab clothes, brown hair in a messy bun. She was followed by her two assistants, who clearly just arrived at work, and didn’t have the time to change into their working attire too. 

“Tony, what the fuck happened?” Helen said while rushing over to Peter’s right side. 

“He – I don’t know, just save him! Friday said he lost a fuckton of blood and he’ll probably go into hypovolemic shock soon, please do something.” 

 

If Tony tries to recall the following minutes later on, the only thing he sees is Peter’s face, too bruised, too bloody, too pale, too young to look like this. 

 

Tony’s body went on autopilot, mind still in unadulterated panic. At some point he thinks he might have felt somebody’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him somewhere, away from the room with the blood-soaked bed. 

His mind came back to reality while his body was standing in front of the Med Bay, leaning against Rhodey for support. That was when it hits him. 

Peter could die. 

His son could die. His child, who was fifteen years old, who laughed too loud and trusted too easy, who fed homeless cats he meets on his way to school, who cries when he accidentally killed a bug. His kid, who suffered so much but still believed that there was something good in everybody, could die. 

Peter could die. 

And if that happened, Tony didn’t have anything to live for any longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> At first I wanted to say that your feedback absolutely overwhelmed me – I definitely didn’t expect so many people to like my writing! Thank you so much, I love you all!
> 
> Secondly I wanted to say that I changed some things from the canon timeline, for example Tony's age, just that you know.
> 
> I didn’t really proofread this chapter as much as I usually do because I still have exams and therefore not that much time - I just had to write something (not using my motivation to write is a grave mistake because sometimes I can’t find motivation for months oops)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Love,  
> Steffi

### Chapter 2

_Stark men don’t cry._

His father told him countless times. 

_Stark men are made of iron._

Still ingrained in his brain.

_Stark men don’t cry._

But there he is, clinging onto Rhodey – who had appeared next to him from out of nowhere - and crying his eyes out, occasionally gasping for breath in between his sobs.

His son was dying. Perhaps he already was dead. So why should Tony even try to keep his composure according to Howard’s mantra?  
He tried for years to get rid of Howard’s toxic influence on him, especially after Peter was born. Tony had been determined ever since to not act like Howard did, he wanted to be there for his kid instead of showing up maybe once a week just to yell at him and point out all the mistakes he made. In Howard’s opinion Tony did either too little for college or didn’t have enough commitment for SI or did this wrong or did that wrong. Not even graduating from MIT in the age of fucking seventeen made Howard give his son the tiniest compliment.

Well, Howard had been a master in conveying the feelings of inadequacy and uselessness in Tony.

The first time Tony actually felt important, felt needed, was after Peter had been born. The moment he first saw his son, his fear vanished to be replaced with that unconditional love he never knew he was capable of perceiving. This tiny, helpless baby looking at him with bright eyes and within a heartbeat Tony knew he was gone.

Surely Howard continued criticising Tony – him being a single parent to a baby conceived in a one night stand would damage the Stark’s good reputation, _‘How can you even think about this? Oh god I don’t believe how_ irresponsible _you are!_ ’

Well, obviously Tony didn’t listen to Howard’s constant critics and his demands to ‘ _Give that bastard child up for adoption, you’re clearly not able to raise him right, not even_ I _managed to raise a functioning person and I wasn’t just 22._ ’ 

This particular night, especially after the shouting match between him and Howard, Tony readied himself for both getting thrown out and being disinherited by his parents. 

Well, due to a certain Winter Soldier that never happened. 

Even if it had, he would have chosen his kid over the company. 

 

His kid 

His kid who he found bleeding out on his bed just a few minutes, hours earlier 

 

“Tony?” a female voice snapped him out of his reverie. “Tony, you need to listen to me, okay?” 

He recognized the voice, which belonged to Dr. Cho, the chief of medicine in Stark Tower. She continued talking after he managed to clear his brain enough to actually comprehend what she was talking about. “Tony, Peter’s stable. We managed to stop the bleeding and gave him a much-needed blood transfusion. Do you hear me? He’ll survive." 

“Oh thank _fuck_.” Rhodey whispered next to him, his hand squeezing Tony’s left arm reassuringly. “Will he be okay?” 

“Most likely, yes. He’s stable, but he’s still unconscious. He lost a lot of blood, it’s a miracle he was still alive when you found him.” 

“Can-” Tony’s voice broke, “Can I go in? I need to see him.” 

“Of course, boss. But I gotta say it’d be better to wait a few minutes, we still need to get the med bay cleaned up, it’s not a pretty sight.” 

Limbs still heavy from fear, he got up from the ground in front of the tower’s med bay. Rhodey understood what he was planning to do within a second.  
“No offense, Doc, but I think he needs to see him right away, if it’s possible.” 

Helen Cho nodded and then turned towards the med bay’s door, left arm inviting them to enter the room. 

 

James didn’t know what he was expecting while he entered the med bay behind Tony, hand still on his best friend’s shoulder. 

The kid was still lying on the op-table; it was obvious that the doctors finished operating mere minutes ago. You could easily see that Peter had lost a lot of blood – the bloody gauze bandages that one of the surgery nurses threw away as they entered were evidence enough. Besides that, Peter looked almost whiter as the nurse’s scrubs primary colours, especially with the bright blue and red clothes he still wore from stomach down. 

But he was alive. Seeing Peter’s chest rising with every breath soothed his nerves. Tony’s too, for sure. 

“Oh, Peter...” James heard Tony whisper in front of him. His best friend hurried over to his kid, totally ignoring Helen’s two assistants who buzzed around them, finishing the post-op-cleanup. 

Rhodey stayed on the sideline while Tony stood beside his son, touching him, as if he had to assure himself that Peter was here, he was breathing and still _alive._  


 

If Peter had died today, that would’ve pushed Tony over the edge he’d already been on for years. Not even James would’ve known how to fix him afterwards.

 

Thank _god_ the kid was okay. 

 

 

After a few minutes, Helen Cho slipped back in the room. 

“Tony, can I talk to you for a second? I know you rather not do this now, but it have to address this, rather soon than later.” 

Tony didn’t turn his face away from Peter, but nodded nevertheless. 

“The thing is, Peter apparently has some weird DNA alterations I can’t explain the slightest. He seems to have higher resilience and faster healing abilities than regular humans, that’s good news. I’m pretty sure they’re the reason he’s still around, but on the other side – we don’t know how he’ll react to pain medication and sedatives. If they’ll work at all. And considering that we’ll have to operate again to take out the bullet, that’s really bad news.” 

She took Tony’s frown as a silent question and answered immediately. 

“We couldn’t take out the bullet right away because the wound had already started to seal itself. Considering that Peter was in a critical condition, we didn’t want to risk reopening the wound and augmenting the blood loss.” 

“You’re not telling me you’ll have to operate Peter without sedatives, are you?” 

“The problem is, I don’t know. There’s still a chance that normal sedatives and meds will work, but if they don’t… that won’t be pretty.” 

Thinking of that possibility made Tony shudder. He had had an operation without sedatives, back in the days when he got his arc reactor, and it had been fucking hell. He wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemies.  
But then, another thing came to his mind. 

“Can’t you just take Steve’s meds? I mean, they’re made for enhanced people.” 

“We could try, but it’d be risky. Mr Rogers pain meds will kill a normal person within a heartbeat. We don’t know how Peter would react - he might be enhanced too, but his enhancements are not comparable to Steve’s, and he’s also younger and smaller than Mr Rogers. I wouldn’t take the risk, it could seriously harm Peter.” 

“Well, shit.” 

“But don’t worry too much right now, Tony. We’re currently working on some pain meds for Peter, and if we’re lucky they’ll be ready before he wakes up. If he wakes up before we’re finished, then he’ll has to endure the pain – I’m afraid there’s no other possibility.” 

Well, considering Peter's really bad luck, Tony expected the worst. 


End file.
